A RUNNER'S HIGH HEALS THE HEART

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Desert Adventures

I begin typing an idea that’s been brewing over the previous couple of days. Most of the time, I make it to the bottom of the page before I realize I don’t like anything I’ve written.

I quickly highlight, delete, and begin again.

And again.

And again.

This process happens over and over until suddenly an hour has passed and I’ve just finally gotten into the groove… with just a single paragraph complete.

Now if I wasn’t using a laptop, I like to think the surrounding area would look very cliché. There would be crumpled up pieces of paper cluttering the floor below me. Better yet, there would be a half finished coffee mug sitting on my desk and I would be working in some cozy office during a rainstorm.

Except, that’s not what it looks like at all… besides the half finished coffee cup that follows me everywhere I go… that’s real.

In actuality, I’m sitting in an empty classroom with a clutter free floor beneath me. Ironically it is raining outside, and this is approximately the sixth version of the same post. There’s been an absurd amount of type, highlight, delete, repeat.

You see, I’ve been trying with all my might to accurately describe one of the most breath taking places I’ve ever been, and it’s more difficult than I expected. I want to get it just right, and that takes time.

Earlier this month I went to Arizona. From the moment I walked off the plane my heart was full. I relished the perfect running weather, authentic Mexican food, and towns full of personality.

I was obsessed with the Aztec styled homes and the abundant number of cacti.

I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the mountains ever-present in the distance.

I spent every second in the sun, taking it all in, while applying absurd amounts of sunscreen in fear that my North Pole skin wasn’t going to know how to react to the sun.

The trip opened my eyes to the peaceful beauty of the dessert.

I could write about all of the beautiful places I saw, and the incredible people I met, but I want to focus on one very specific piece of the trip.

On the very last day, my friend, her parents, and I went to Sedona. A place my friend ensured me was comparable to the Grand Canyon, and in her opinion, more striking.

When I search for the perfect word to describe it, I’m speechless. The grandeur of my surroundings was stunning. And the energy was contagious.

The immaculate scenery was almost painful to pull us away from. And even though the view is etched into my memory forever, I know I’ll go back.

And now that I’m back in the North Pole, patiently waiting for spring to make its appearance, I am grateful.

I’m grateful for the miles logged on the treadmill these past months because it meant having the ability to run the unexplored roads of Cave Creek, AZ easily.

I’m grateful for the early mornings doing yoga in my living room because I had the strength to climb the side of a mountain and view the world from its peak.

And I’m oddly grateful for the ridiculous winter we’ve had because I’m not sure I’ve ever been so blissful just soaking up the sun.